


Wild and Beloved

by BlueEyedArcher



Series: Teratophilia Collection [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Berserker bear, Berserkers, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Body Modification, Cannibal Cults, Druids, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Gods and Goddesses, Handfasting, Life Partners, M/M, Marriage, Mating Bond, Mating Rituals, Priestesses, Prisoner freedom, Prostate Massage, Smut, Teratophilia, Vikings, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 12:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: When Njal led his Berserker Clan in a battle to slaughter the cannibalistic practitioners of the Villages of the Three Sisters, he didn't expect to find his potential Life Mate in chains within the head Priestess' home. Nor did he expect that by the end of the week, he would be wed to the former prisoner of the cannibals. With teeth sharpened like a wolf and eyes sharing the curse of the Cult's Goddess, Njal sought to change the life of this unfortunate soul but found it changed his own in the process, albeit for the better.





	Wild and Beloved

The smoke rose ominously into the night sky, billowing great clouds from the thickest part of the woods where the once quaint village of the three sisters once stood. The great columns rose in three different locations, from the small lakeside villages in the west to the newer trapper villages overlooking the roads traveling between kingdoms where travelers and merchants passed through. To the great northern village that started it all. Flames roared where people had once begged for their lives as the onslaught of warriors carved a path of carnage through the land. Houses were toppled to nothing but cinders and charred rocky foundations, the embers glowing paths around bodies, scorched and half buried in piles of refuse. 

The head of their Matriarch was severed from her body, the holy white of her robes stained red and seeping into the earth. Her flesh still warm under the touch as blood dripped across the ground before it was promptly plunged onto a wooden spike. The great hulking forms of beasts lumbered and lurched, covered in fur and armed with sharp claws and teeth. The warm air of their blood stenched blood huffed at the glossy silver orbs of the dead. The great form of the proud Berserker clan picked apart the village one by one, pillaging and destroying what remained as they cleared a path towards Seraphiel’s home at the edge of the village, pressed against the thickest of the forest at its back and guarded by buildings on either side.

Njal made his way towards the house, swinging his massive paws against the hard wood of one of the doors. The stench of blood creeping out of the building, soaking the walls and floors in its rotting odor. He parted his maw with a great roar as he threw his body against it, hearing the crack of the wood splintering away from the hinges and falling to the ground. His eyes fell upon a horrific sight as he entered the Matriarch of this unfortunate village’s home, moving deeper inside, navigating around the tables and cages fixed within, stained and crusted with blood and other revolting fluids spread from the victims that once resided within.

At the far back of the abode was a young man hanging on his tiptoes in chains. His body blood stained and skinnier than Njal would think to be healthy. His sun kissed skin turned pale in places and in others were splotched in great swathes of dark purples and yellowing bruises. His long black hair hung down his back and past his face as his head hung weakly with it. Njal approached warily, nostrils flaring curiously as he lifted a large claw to gently lift its head to look up at him. Deep blue eyes stared back at him, ringed around the pupil with the same ghostly accursed silver of the rest of the village. From what Njal knew of the people’s beliefs, their cannibalistic tendencies and their wicked rituals calling upon a very dark and cruel goddess, he recognized the small silver ring around the pupils marking this young one as an outsider to the village and its practices. Njal could only assume they were forcing him into their practices, as shown by the ring’s presence. 

His claw dropped to his bottom lip, pulling down gently to spy the sharpened teeth filed to points. The handiwork of Seraphiel herself. 

Njal drew away when the young man growled at him, baring his teeth with a wary snarl. His wrists pulling on the chains as he tried to make himself appear bigger than the great bear staring him down. The berserker grinned a toothy and dangerous grin, rumbling lowly at him as he chuffed, nudging him with his snout and sharing a good look at his own blood stained teeth, cast in the crimson mist of his fellow villagers. 

The young man shifted in the restraints, the weakness in his limbs shown as his muscles trembled to keep him up. The fear in his eyes was momentary, a flicker of decision before he tilted his head, baring his throat to the beast before him. A submissive gesture that Njal found bode ill. His dark brown eyes raked down the length of the young man’s body, taking in the roadmap of scarring and phantom marks of torture’s past. The wrapping scars curving over his shoulders and around his rib cage. The careful lines of what appeared to be gruesome dissection splitting his torso symmetrically, the little dots paralleling the marks on his eyelids as they closed in surrender. 

This young man had seen a life time of horror in his short years. That of which Njal couldn’t even begin to fathom but could certainly believe. The stories that traveled from these villages, the atrocities they carried out in the name of their goddess, much of them were the reason Njal and his clan decided no more. They would put an end to the fear and plight they have wrought over the land.

Reaching with his massive paws towards the chains that bound the young man to the wall, Njal pulled, wrenching the bolts out of the wood and lowering him to the floor. The man winced, a hiss darting between clenched teeth as his legs supported his weight before dropping to rest on his rear end. His chained wrists fought the heavy weight of the chains to massage the feeling back into his bruised limbs. 

“What is your name young one?” The bear growled at him. 

The man kept his head tucked low for a moment before slowly lifting his conflicted gaze to meet the Berserker’s. “Kanarian….but many just call me Kane.” He admitted softly. His eyes slipping past the hulking form of the bear and catching shreds of the outside world past the broken door frame. The columns of smoke and angry orange glow of flames raging where the council hall once stood. He could smell the blood from here. He could hear the screams and roar of the battle as the village was decimated and yet, Kanarian felt not a single second of grief in the loss. He had been trying for years to be free of his mother, Seraphiel’s wicked grasp since the day she killed his real mother and took him under her care. She was a cruel priestess serving an even more vicious deity.

To see the village gone for good eased his fears, even if what few moments he had left would be ended soon at the end of this great beast’s teeth, he could at least die content to know he was free. 

But Kanarian’s expectations were shattered when the beast rumbled thoughtfully. “You will be coming with me, Kanarian. As my trophy on this glorious day.” He informed. “Do you accept that fate?”

Kanarian thought about it, listening to the bear’s proposition. Or well, what sounded like one. He didn’t exactly have a choice. “I do.” He murmured with a low rasp.

“Are you scared?” Njal inquired, lowering his large furry head to inspect his prize. 

“I’ve lived my whole life in fear. For once, I feel nothing.” 

“I intend to change that.” Njal growled, his sharp teeth curling into a wide smile.

  
  


Njal was a bear that kept his word, Kanarian had come to find out as he had been carried off with what other spoils the other Berserker’s had gathered from the village. Amongst it, were his bow and his hunting knife which Njal had gathered from Seraphiel’s main dwelling and kept with a coy wink towards the now captive trophy. Kanarian didn’t expect much as he waited on the cart near one of the many fires, warming his chilled limbs and hunkered down in one of the few spare blankets they managed to dredge up before burning everything.

The berserker’s disposed of the meat sheds filled with the stored cured flesh of the village’s many victims, merchant passersby, travelers, hunters that strayed too close to their lands among many more. Each had been taken alive and brutally slain before the altar of the Goddess, the stone scavenger beast looking upon them with a grim sort of glee, hungry for their lives. A face that has stared Kanarian down time and again with an unspoken promise. He was to become a prophet of his people when the time came. His mother had promised this to be his purpose and his place when the Goddess was ready to welcome him into her arms.

He would be the first of his kind, the awaited one but first, he needed to succumb to her _ love _and consume of her flesh until his eyes had taken on the pure silver glow of her presence. Then his eyes would have been carefully removed because his sight is no longer necessary for the Goddess will see for him, his tongue would be cut out because the Goddess will speak for him and Seraphiel will be the voice that translates their combined will to the rest of the village. His pain and torment leading up to that point was all for the sake of the Goddess, as she had declared so calmly when he reached his teenage years. The violence spread from just his mother’s ill will to the entire village’s abuse upon his presence. 

He had dreaded the day when he would become a living statue to sit with their wretched temple. His eyes turned to admire as it raged in flames, engulfed with the fires of his anger and many more. Freeing the spirits of all who had been slaughtered within those walls. No more would that accursed fiend reign over him and his life.

Kanarian couldn’t really remember when he had drifted to sleep on that wagon. He had stared into the blaze for a long time and before he knew it, he was waking up on a bed of pelts to the warmth of the sun on his skin peeking in through the open doorway. The mild heat of morning stirring the dew from the blades of grass and carrying a breeze into the open space to ghost against his face. The hulking form of a man stood at the entrance, warm brown eyes and long thick brown hair tied in the back, the sides shaved close to the skin around his ears. A stretch of dark hair grew short but scraggly along his chin and jawline. He was broad of shoulder and definitely a very large man in every shape of the word.

His boots caused the floorboards to creak softly under his weight as he moved towards the bed of pelts where Kanarian lay bare. His body wrapped in thin fabrics to protect his wounds after having been tended to and cleaned up. His eyes stared up at the man in momentary confusion before that voice spoke up and he recalled the same sound coming from the bear in his mother’s home the night before. 

“How are you feeling?” Njal inquired, gently sitting on the edge of the bed, the sturdy wood frame groaned only a little. Kanarian watched closely as the man lifted a large paw sized hand to inspect the wounds along his chest, gently pulling the fabric away. These were shallow and would heal in days as far as Kanarian was concerned. Last night’s punishment was more of an endurance based one, forcing him into a state of exhaustion so he would be helpless to defy his mother’s will again in the following days. Luckily the attack had happened when it did, so he only had to endure a short bit of time.

“I am fine.” Kanarian answered quietly, his voice a broken rasp that pulled a cough from his lips. He shuddered as the force made his chest ache. Njal rose to his feet, moving quickly to collect a tankard of water out of Kanarian’s view and returning at his side. The offered tankard was received with an appreciative nod from Kanarian as he coughed again before gathering himself enough to clear his parched throat.

“Thank you uh….” Kanarian’s voice trailed off as he stared up at the man uncertain of what to call him. 

“Njal. My name is Njal.” He prompted, gesturing to take the empty tankard from Kanarian. 

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here.”

A quiet nod from Kanarian secured Njal’s thoughts as he set the tankard on the table returned to the bedside, this time only kneeling beside it to get on eye level with his prize. “You are my spoil of war.” Njal explained simply. “A trophy, an object of my desire which I found myself wanting.” 

There was a momentary pause before Njal added. “I aim to make you my life mate, Kanarian. There will be a ceremony for it to make it proper and true in the eyes of the gods.”

Kanarian shifted on the bed thoughtfully, his palms pressing against the frame to get enough leverage to sit upright. The sun light that had been pooling in was barely breaking through the cracks of the door frame now where it was closed for privacy. His mind roved over their Initiation ceremony in his village. For the young to become adults, they go through a rite of passage where they set out and either find a life partner to help grow the village with and convert into the practices or they bring back a sacrifice and a feast will ensue as they celebrate another successful life in the village and their beloved Goddess. 

Kanarian wanted nothing to do with the latter and wanted to seek out his life partner in hopes they will offer him the chance to leave that place for good but Seraphiel denied him the Rite and Initiation. She claimed his status as a prophet meant he had to be clean of outside influence and untethered to this world so that he could ascend to meet their Goddess and commune with her as she will be his true partner in life.

Kanarian of course wanted none of this.

But looking over Njal, remembering the promise he made the night before which made him more than a little curious now thinking back. After all Njal had done, it would have been easy for him to simply kill Kanarian with the rest of his village. Despite the atrocious beliefs of his mother and her people, Kanarian held his own beliefs, he watched the way the world unfolded, he’s spoken to people passing through and learned a little of the outside world. He believes in a fate beyond that which normal people could see and he couldn’t help but wonder if all of this was a part of his fate, his _ real _fate and not the falsified ramblings his mother used to sway the people in the Villages of the Three Sisters.

“We are not complete monsters, mind you.” Njal continued. “You do have a say in the matter but your purpose in this Clan will be limited-”

“I accept.” Kanarian spoke quickly causing Njal to raise a suspicious brow at the younger man. 

“You’ve seen what my village is like. Any life away from that is better. Even if it means being taken as your bride.”

“Life mate.” Njal corrected before adding. “You won’t regret this in the future then?”

“I promise.”

Njal spread a toothy grin of approval at Kanarian as he rumbled a low. “Perfect.”

  
  
  
  


The preparations for the ceremony took nearly an entire week getting everything ready for Njal’s bonding to Kanarian. Which Kanarian spent much of that time resting and healing in Njal’s home. The great bear of the Northern Berserker Clan would bring hearty meals of venison and elk for him to eat, stews and slabs of cooked meat, crisp apples and occasionally fish from the nearby lake smoked over a fire. It was possibly the best Kanarian has eaten in a long time to the point he nearly cried when the first offering of a meal was venison. _ Cooked venison _. He was reminded of the day his mother discovered he had been keeping a stash of smoked meats and dried provisions in a makeshift shed he built far out into the woods. One of the elder hunters followed him and found it after he had been routinely skipping meals in the village. She had them tear it down and the months worth of food had been left strewn about for the animals.

Kanarian was absent of grief about the loss as his views of the world were rekindled by these new experiences and interactions. To be around people who didn’t look at him like he was a monster, to be able to have a meal that didn’t make him hate himself because it was the end of a human life. To be able to relax and not feel the sudden need to flee for the forest before the break of dawn with the same old excuse of going hunting just to avoid the people in his village and above all else, avoid his mother.

He felt no connection to the woman who killed his birth mother as she deserved what had been done to her. He had seen her head on a spike, had witnessed the blood pooling down the wooden pole and saw the glossy silver eyes gazing out at nothing at all as firelight reflected in those hues. He just wished she could have been alive long enough to see them take him away and watch the village she loved so much burn to ashes.

As the days wound down, Njal and Kanarian did share a bed during the long nights but the larger man was considerate of Kanarian’s space, only entering when checking on the status of his wounds. A bit of salve and some attention and they were healing quickly. From Njal’s estimate, in a few months they will fade like the rest that were scattered across his mate-to-be’s body. He would not be the first in their village to have been marked by their personal war, for each of them had a fight of their own and scars from each encounter every day of their lives. Kanarian would fit in well with his people, sharp teeth and all.

With the day set in stone, the morning had come quicker than Kanarian had anticipated. He had been roused from his sleep by two older women knocking on Njal’s door before politely entering. Kanarian was surprised to find Njal was already absent as the women brought him his breakfast and let him eat as they helped remove the bandages on his body. They explained the process of the ceremony as he was guided to a bathing house with a sauna attached. He would be scrubbed from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, his hair combed out in long slow strokes to untangle it then braid it with handcrafted wooden beads marked with different runes and symbols.

After the bath, he sat in a sauna to relax and dry off before following after the two elder women to an entirely different hut with numerous clay bowls filled with colorful liquids and brushes of varying sizes. Kanarian was directed to stand as they worked a warm oil into his skin where it had rested on the coals of a hearth, covering every inch of his body with the softly scented fluid. When that was finished, they took the bowls with the brushes in hand and began painting his body with long intricately connected lines of blues and reds and blacks. It wasn’t until the tickly of the damp brush strokes on his feet that he realized that they were drawing with the claws of a wolf overlapping his feet and toes, the tail at the dip of his back and up his spine, the paw prints that had become his hands. Then the very careful small lines that decorated his face. His inquiring about the paint and the choice of creature led to the explanation that Njal named him _ Little Wolf. _

Kanarian’s confusion faded a bit as the women finished the painting, leaving him to stand near the fire to help the paints dry. One of them brought him a tankard of water and helped him drink from it before moving on to the next stage of preparation. 

A dark leather kilt was fitted around Kanarian’s hips and adjusted to his size with a white sash of fabric wrapped around the edge. His painted markings rising up his body along his limbs and down his back. A shawl made of grey wolf fur was buckled in front of his sternum, the intricately carved clasp polished neatly as the soft furs rested on his bare shoulders. A crown of flowers which was woven together that morning was placed upon his head ever so gently. 

By time they were prepared, it was mid afternoon and the whole village was gathering outside in the center of town before following Kanarian as he was led by the women towards the banks of the lake. The glistening surface was smooth and unblemished by ripples. The grassy hills that dipped down to the muddy edge and sandy shoreline were a brighter more luscious green than the more sun bleached shades near the village. An arch of tree branches were woven and fixed near a wooden altar with decorative carvings. On it rested a large candle that was lit with two new slimmer candles on either side, the wicks unburnt and clean awaiting use.

Beside the candles rested a braided cord of white with beaded ends to represent the two lives coming together. Njal waited by the altar, his outfit mirroring much of Kanarian’s with the leather kilt only his lacked the white of the sash and was replaced with a darker brown coloring to match the bear pelt he wore. His hair and beard neatly tended to and almost soft looking to touch and his body adorned in the same painted markings like Kanarian only his resembled the great bear that he was. He smiled a genuine smile as the younger man joined him by the altar, the warmth of the sun grinning down at them through the white puffs of clouds in the mostly blue sky.

The village was dressed in their best and gathered in silent anticipation as a druid approached to begin the rites of marriage. The ceremony was intimate and unlike any that Kanarian had witnessed in his own village as they each took up a slender candle and lit it from the center. It was followed by one of the older women presenting a drinking horn filled with a sweetly scented liquid that they each partook from. Njal presented a necklace made from the claws of a bear with a polished stone of Onyx in the center. He took a moment to tie the necklace around Kanarian’s neck so it rested softly against his bare sternum. 

“For the strength to face the unknown of the future and the courage to fight for that which means the most to you.” Njal purred, brushing his thumb lightly over the glistening smooth surface of the stone and watched fondly as Kanarian glanced down to inspect it thoughtfully, the warmth flushing his cheeks urged an amused laugh from Njal. His hand raised to brush a finger over the pink hued skin before drawing it away when it started to burn redder, barely stifling his laugh as they continued.

From there, they crossed their wrists and held each other’s hands as the white cord was draped over their wrists, looping over again and against before tying off, their fingers interwoven as Kanarian gazed up nervously at his new mate. Njal’s own brown orbs stared down at the little wolf before him, wearing the mark of his lineage and his love. Their knowledge of one another was little and their acquaintance of each other was brief but he had never felt more in line with where he belonged than he did now. He squeezed Kanarian’s fingers reassuringly as the druid guided them in the speaking of the vows. Kanarian stumbled a little, excitement apparent as his heart fluttered loudly in his chest as the ceremony wound down and was punctuated by the rejoicement of the village.

Music strung up right there on the banks as the village fell into easy song guided to celebrate, the first dance for the new couple done as their hands are interlocked. Kanarian followed after Njal’s slow and careful steps as they circled around and flower petals littered the earth at their feet as maidens sprinkled them down on the new couple. 

The evening continued back at the village as the couple, now unbound from the cords and free to enjoy the feast to come sat side by side at the table in the great hall. Meats and mead were passed around, warm breads and smoked fish, potatoes boiled down with slabs of pork adorning their trays. Kanarian was mindful not to stuff himself too full lest he feel the sudden urge to nap it all off before the night is even done. 

When darkness fell, Njal guided him away from the music and dancing around a great bonfire, the squeals of delight and chorus of singing maidens and drums thundering on the air following them as they made their way to the other end of the lake. There a lakeside pavillion awaited them, alight with torches on every post. Flowers were strewn about and hung in sweetly scented bushels, warm oils rested in clay pots sitting on the hot embers of the festive fires. Sweet ripe fruits and bushels of herbs burned eliciting a tingling sensation throughout their bodies. The cacophony of scents along with the warm lubricant of alcohol in his belly lured Kanarian into a lull of comfort, pulled easily into Njal’s arms towards the pile of large soft pelts and cushions covering the wooden floors. 

The crickets chirped quietly as the silvery light of the moon smiled down upon them, mingling with the orange glow of the torches. The chilly night air nipping at Kanarian’s flushed skin as the cool droplets of dew started to gather on the land, causing him to press closer to his new mate in search of warmth. His lips pulled back into a giddy smile, sharp teeth greeting Njal who rumbled a low purr of satisfaction, dropping his head to catch the sweet honey flavored lips of his beloved.

Kanarian sighed against the gentle kiss, letting a small noise out of his throat as large strong hands roamed across his body. They massaged at his hips and spread over his chest. Njal's warm chocolate eyes staring adoringly at the necklace that rested upon his mate's chest, the claws of a great bear and a stone of protection to keep his mate safe when he is alone. It made his own heart race with a level of excitement and nerves about how their lives will follow after this. If he can properly provide for him and if they would truly get along in the long run. There were so many unknowns for the future but Njal trusted the gods and the fate they laid before him, he trusted his instincts as they had called to him the moment his eyes fell upon Kanarian. His sweet little wolf with too sharp of teeth and such an adorably timid demeanor.

He trailed kisses down his mate’s chest, littering warmth across the dip of skin that rose and fell with every breath, following the colorful lines adorning his body with fond growls and small teasing bites. He suckled at his hips, trailing red marks and small bruises in their wake, hearing the little whines coming from Kanarian’s honey mead tinted lips.

Njal sat up enough as he reached one hand over to secure one of the clay bowls of warm oil, pulling it closer to his body as he pulled the leather garments from Kanarian’s waist, letting it fall to the side. The white sash slipping away as Njal teasingly brought it up to bind his mate’s wrists together, the fabric tangled loosely around his fingers as Njal rumbled out softly. 

“Keep your hands like that. If you remove them from the sash, I’ll stop.” It wasn’t a threat or an order, but a friendly reminder. “If you feel uncomfortable at all and want me to stop, take it off. Do you understand?”

Njal’s question was answered with a lazy bob of the head as Kanarian’s flushed cheeks brightened more. His lips tilted up into a giddy grin as Njal spread the man’s legs to rest on either side of him. His lips peppering kisses down the exposed space of his abdomen down to his cock, mouthing over the tip for starters. His tongue brushing over the sensitive head of Kanarian’s cock, slowly taking it down the shaft inch by inch. Njal hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head, sucking firmly on the upwards strokes before lavishing it with his tongue when going back down. Kanarian’s thighs trembled with the influx of pleasure and stimulation unlike any he had ever experienced.

Njal relished in the sounds of his mate as he was pleasured, taking his sweet time as he dipped one of his free hands into the oil, soaking his fingers with the substance and rubbing slow circles around the rim of his ass. Njal gently pressed his first finger in, testing it slowly until it gave and let him slip inside Kanarian. A stifled noise bubbled up in the man’s chest but it was thwarted by the sucking sensation of Njal’s mouth working at his sensitive cock. His legs shifted but Njal’s other hand was firmly holding him in place as his oil slick digits massaged at his ass and worked their way inside him. Kanarian’s hips twitched with the urged to buck as the Berserker’s fingers brushed over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside that make all the beginning discomfort feel absolutely phenomenal.

His fingers started a steady rhythm of stroking Kanarian in tandem with the up and down motions of his mouth until he felt his mate tighten up around his digits. Njal’s lips popped off of the tip as he licked at it with a small laugh. “You’re getting close my love.” He purred out. “I can feel it but don’t worry. The night is young and long and we have plenty to keep us busy.” Njal dragged his tongue against the length of Kanarian’s shaft before taking him in again and worked his mate up to the first climax of the night. He watched as Kanarian’s hips bucked before the warmth of his seed pooled down the Berserker’s throat. Njal swallowed it down, relishing the tinge of sweetness mixing with the usually bitter flavor as Kanarian gorged himself for the past week on sweet fruits in the mornings.

He licked his lips clean but kept his fingers where they were, slowly thrusting in and out as they massage and spread Kanarian open. Adding the second and third, twisting them around and splaying them before adding another to open him further. Each time he would withdraw to gather more oil up into his fingers and work it in until Kanarian was thoroughly coated within.

When he saw his mate’s little cock perk back up to full hardness from the massaging preparation, Njal withdrew his hand and gathered up even more oil. His free hand slipped the leather garment away from his own hips and watched his mate’s face as those dazed blue and silver hues stared in awe and surprise at the size of his great bear. Njal smirked, using the warm oil to stroke his own eager cock until it was coated properly and nudged at his mate’s entrance. Kanarian made a noise, sucking in a sharp breath as his hands raised above his head to find leverage. His thighs spread and heels pressed to the pelts beneath them. The soft fur at his back as Njal gripped his thighs and pulled him closer, giving his hips a boost and padding below them with a quick move of a cushion before pressed the tip of his shaft against the twitching hole. 

The first press was slow as Njal observed Kanarian’s acceptance of his length, working in short slow thrusts to get the head in then slowly pressed further beyond that. His chocolate eyes darted up to inspect the discomfort of Kanarian’s expression, hands massaging circles and running swathes across his thighs and down to his rear, giving it a light squeeze. “You alright little wolf?” Njal murmured, his brows furrowed with concern before Kanarian raised his hands towards his bear.

“Njal.” The younger man called, looping his arms around Njal’s neck and gripping to his shoulders as Njal pressed deeper inside until Kanarian had taken him almost to the hilt. He rutted up inside him for a moment, giving a few test thrusts and feeling his lover tremble against his chest with sensitivity. The little whine and gasps of pleasure as flushed cheeks pressed to his shoulders. The long dark hair falling to cover his face but Njal, lifted his clean hand to brush that away, catching Kanarian by his chin and lifting it to capture his lips in a deep kiss. 

Njal carefully guided them both back to the pelts as Njal mounted over him, giving short gentle thrusts, working his hips in an easy rotation, rolling and rutting inside his mate. As eager as he was to fill Kanarian with his claim, Njal knew the youth was new to all of this. He was gentle and considerate as Kanarian’s nails marked crescents in his shoulders. Njal’s lips pressed kisses against the scars peeking over his shoulders and the little pock marks over his eyelids as they slipped shut, a deep moan rising from Kanarian’s chest as his head tipped back, baring his throat. A gentle bite leaving half moon red marks on his throat before licking along it like a feral beast.

He nipped at Kanarian’s ear, teeth grazing the shell between them before dropping down to recapture those elusive lips that Njal could never get enough of. The sweet taste of Kanarian’s flavor slipping between them as tongues mingled, sliding over the sharper filed teeth to greet him. The soft whines in the younger man’s throat and the tightening of his insides around Njal’s cock told him all he needed to know as he picked up the pace a little more. His strong paws pressing Kanarian down into the pelts as his hips worked up inside him, moving faster and harder as Kanarian cried out, a crescendo of intensity crashing down upon him as it arched through his nerves and senses. His thighs tightening around Njal’s hips as his ankles locked around behind him, urging the great beast on as Njal fucked him into the pelts.

“Njal!” Kanarian cried out, reaching the climax that engulfed him with a gasp before groaning, body shuddering. His muscles twitching with the thrum of excitement as the bear milked out a few more thrusts, settling down his pace as he neared the edge. His hips stuttered before the heat of his seed pooled out inside of Kanarian, washing over his sensitive nerves and making for an even slicker thrust as Njal worked the last few drops out. 

He dropped down beside Kanarian, letting his cock slip out between his cheeks and rub up against Kanarian’s front. The younger man’s arms remained looped around his shoulders as Njal pulled him against his chest into a hungry kiss, a rumble against Kanarian’s lips as they held each other like that. Their limbs slack with euphoria as their Goddess’ beloved gaze cast upon them with a warm smile. Njal reached for the bowl of strawberries balancing on one of the benches and took a bite, admiring his mate with the ritual beading in his hair and the colorful paints that declared him apart of their tribe. Turning a second strawberry to Kanarian’s lips, the younger man accepted it, biting it down to the top and teasing him with a cheeky little smile. Njal chuckled, swallowing down his own before leaning forward to steal another of many kisses to come in their life together. Kanarian sinking into it with relished delight. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this piece and wish to read many more, check out my tumblr at -
> 
> https://leading-the-pack.tumblr.com/tagged/teratophilia
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment below of what you think! Thank you!


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